With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real. " "I am," replied Jack, without hesitation; for he felt assured from the man's manner that he might confide in him. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. " "Bless you! bless you!" cried Mrs. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna the Adventuress, by E.
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